


Scars

by guera



Series: Time keeps on slippin' [4]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, au time travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guera/pseuds/guera
Summary: It's just a scar, no bigger than Kraglin's little finger, faded with age and nearly indistinguishable if not for the feel of the knotted tissue beneath the surface.  Kraglin feels his blood run cold none the less, and he can't help but run a thumb over the slight bump.





	Scars

Earth Year – 1998

The deal went sideways not an hour after they touched down on the little backwoods moon. _It's gotta be some kinda record_ , Kraglin figures as he drags Quill up the ramp of the _Maggie_. He leaves the man slumped against the wall in the cargo hold, an arm wrapped around his bleeding side, and practically flies up stairs leading to the next level so he can get to the cockpit and get them off this damn rock before anyone goes to investigate the noises and finds all the dead bodies. 

Not that he couldn't outrun the shitty ships the Nova Corp are using in this quadrant, but he's already having a bad day and that'd just make things ten times worse. He breaks through the artificial atmo and finds the nearest jump to anywhere but here. All in all it takes about ten minutes for him to feel comfortable enough to leave the ship to autopilot and head back down to Quill.

He finds the man mostly where he left him, left arm still wrapped tight around his middle, handful of bloody shirt pressed tight to the blaster shot to his side. He's wriggled out of his leathers at some point. 

“I'mma have to patch my damn coat.” He gripes.

Kraglin rolls his eyes and crouches down to get a closer look. “More concerned wit' patchin' ya skin, at the mo'.” He gets the man to let go enough for him to get a look.

It's nasty, but blaster shots always are. It's at least not deep and Kraglin figures he can get away with cleaning it and wrapping it himself. Getting Quill to a clinic would require the man to be unconscious, and while he'd knock the man out if he needed to, he's glad it's not that serious.

“Alrigh', up.” Quill whines but Kraglin's persistent, half picking the man up bodily. “No' doin' this in here, le's go.”

It takes a lot of effort and cussing on Kraglin's part to get Quill up the stairs and to the bunk that's just off the general living space of the _Maggie_. He sets Quill down on the bed and orders, “Don' move.” before going to find the medkit.

Quill's sarcastic, “Where the fuck I'mma go?” follows after him and Kraglin takes a second to just breath and remember why throwing him out of the airlock would be a bad idea.

At least the he looks contrite when Kraglin gets back and Kraglin knows he's hurting and lashing out so he decides he's not going to take it personal. He sets the kit down on the floor and flips the lid open. The only sound on the ship is the rumbling engines and the hiss of the ventilation and so the snick of the knife opening is loud to Kraglin's ears. 

“Alrigh' let go.” Quill moves his hand away and Kraglin expertly slides the knife under the hem of his shirt and slides up. He gets the bloody shirt off and really looks at what he's got to deal with. “Hurts worse than it looks.” is his assessment. 

“Yeah,” Quill agrees breathlessly. “Gonna be a bitch to clean.”

Kraglin makes a noise of agreement before kneeling and digging in the med kit. He comes up with three pain strips and gestures for Quill to give him his arm. Quill watches as he carefully pulls the backing off and sticks them on the inside of Quill's wrist. “Those always make me loopy.” Quill warns.

“Pretty sure I can handle ya loopy. Lay down, it'll be easier.” Kraglin helps him get on his side and shoves a few towels on either side to catch any blood. It's mostly stopped bleeding, he's glad to see.

“This is the part tha's gonna suck.” Kraglin warns. Quill's got his arm over his head but Kraglin can see him nod as he digs through the kit for the sterile tweezers and sterile wipes. He wipes his own hands off a few times before tearing open the tweezers. He rests his left hand on Quill's hip to keep him steady before he starts picking out bits of burnt cotton and leather that's embedded in cracked skin. 

He tries to do it as quickly and as gently as he can, but he can feel the muscle beneath his hand flex and twitch every time he pulls a bit off so he knows it's painful still. The thinks he's gotten it all, but as he stretching the skin a bit so he can be sure his fingers pass over something on Quill's skin just above his hipbone.

It's just a scar, no bigger than Kraglin's little finger, faded with age and nearly indistinguishable if not for the feel of the knotted tissue beneath the surface. Kraglin feels his blood run cold, none the less and he can't help but run a thumb over the slight bump.

“Quill? Ya awake still?” His voice hardly wavers at all.

“Yeah, ya done?” 

“Almost,” He promises. “Hey, how'dya get this scar?” He runs his thumb over it again.

“Hm? Oh,” And he laughs, just a huff of air, before adding. “Tha's a funny story.”

“Tell me.” Kraglin feels like he's in a dream.

“I was about six,” Quill starts, before shaking his head. His arm is still up so Kraglin can't see his face. “Or maybe seven, don' remember. Anyways, I was at my granddad's farm, and he had a little herd of cows he kept. Cows are big animals, like Ezzeets 'cept they only got four legs.” he clarifies, “Terrans eat 'em mostly. Anyways, while I was there one of the cows had a baby. Which young me thought was awesome.”

“I'll bet.” Kraglin should be getting the synthskin out and ready but he can't move his hand, the flex and heat of Quill skin beneath it grounding him.

“I had this great idea,” Quill confides, “Cows aren't really cuddly creatures and I decided I was going to make this new, little one my friend _now_ while it was little so it'd be my friend when it got big.”

Kraglin swallows thickly. “Sound plan.”

Quill snorts. “Not really. I snuck away and crawled through the barbwire fence, carefully like Granddad showed me, and went searchin'. Well I found it, about three seconds b'fore the mama cow found me. Never ran so fast in my life, and I wasn't too careful getting back through the barbwire. Cut my favorite batman shirt. Ended up with eight stitches, Granddad threatened to whoop me with his belt if I ever went in the pasture without him again.” He huffs another laugh, “Musta been a sight, though. Me running from that demon cow. Never did get a cow friend.” he whines.

“Tha's a good story.” Kraglin admits, carefully removing his hand and bending down to grab the synthskin. He knows this is a Moment, one that's likely to change his life. He can keep his mouth shut, finish fixing up Quill and just leave it, probably be the smart choice. He cuts off the right size strip of synthskin and carefully smooths it over the gash in Quill's side. He's bent over Quill, both hands on the man's side when he makes his decision.

“Liked it when Pete told it to me a year ago.” Kraglin never claimed he was smart.

The body beneath his hands tenses and Kraglin feels a bit like he's holding onto something feral that just might decided to turn around and take his throat out. He's never had delusions about his place in life or even in the Ravenger crew. Quill could show up back at the _Eclector_ spinning a story about a deal gone bad and how Kraglin got unlucky and he'd be believed. Kraglin knew better than to think he could manage the same.

But Kraglin couldn't keep quiet. He doesn't get the hows or the whys and he's barely getting the whats, but as soon as his fingers ran over that familiar scar, he couldn't help but start pushing pieces together even if the picture it formed just made him more confused. 

Quill twists a bit in his hold and moves his arm to look at him. Kraglin sits back on his haunches, one hand still on Quill's hip and stares. Cause he was not expecting the almost gentle smile.

“Tha' job back on Sirius.” Quill guesses and Kraglin nods numbly, still not sure what the hell is going on, but a feeling a little less like he's going to get tossed out an airlock. 

Quill's smile widens. “Guess some thin's are jus' fated.” 

“I don' get it.” Kraglin admits, “Why d'ya and Pete have the same scar? Why d'ya have the same fuckin' story?”

Quill brings his hand up and wraps his fingers around Kraglin's wrist. “It's hard to believe,” he warns with a squeeze. “But I'll try an' explain it best I can.”

And so Quill starts talking. About time travel and futures and shared pasts and little things are started to make more sense, little quirks that Kraglin just blew off or half overheard conversations. As Quill was talking, Kraglin found himself settling on the edge of the bed, engrossed in the explanation. The man has to backtrack a few times, the pain meds obviously making it hard to keep on track.

“Cap'n knows.”

It's not a question but Quill nods his head anyways. “He's always known.”

Quill sighs, “Krags, it's still me. The same me you've known for the past seven years.”

“But you're Pete, too.” Quill's already shaking his head before he finishes speaking. 

“I'm a possible version of Pete...but not even that anymore. He'll look like me, but there's been enough change...he's his own person.” Quill insists. 

And Kraglin nods, because that makes sense. “He doesn't know.”

Quill winces, “Can't quite figure out a way to tell him.” he admits. 

Whatever Kraglin's going to say to that get cut off by the yawn that nearly cracks Quill's jaw. It ends in a wince as he stretches his still tender side. “Ya need sleep.” Kraglin decides and goes to stand.

The grip Quill has around his wrist tightens. “Where ya goin'?” Kraglin raises an eyebrow at him and he continues with, “Only one bunk on this ship and ya look dead on ya feet. I can share.” To prove his point he wriggles so that his back is pressed against the wall and there a bit more open space.

Kraglin hesitates and Quill glares at him. “Alrigh' let me clean this up.” He shoves the bloody shirt and towels into a biohazard bag and wipes any stray blood off his hands. His boots clunk loudly as he kicks them off and he strips out of his jumpsuit so that he's just dressed in a soft grey shirt and briefs. He hesitates again at the side of the bed and Quill reaches a hand up and yanks him down, obviously annoyed with the delay. 

Kraglin is half tempted to land on him, but decides against it since he just patched the idiot up. As soon as he's settled there's an arm snaking it's way across his side and pulling him closer and Kraglin just sighs cause he should've figured a Quill high on pain med strips would be a _cuddly_ Quill. 

Quill's eyes are closed and Kraglin figures he's almost asleep when he asks, “The fucker that shot me?”

“Dead.” Kraglin assures. 

“Good.”

XXX

“Tell me about my future.” It's been two days, and they're waiting on the _Eclector_ , orbiting the small planet Lox. Quill glares across the table at him but Kraglin just shrugs. “What?”

“Too much has changed, it won't be the same.”

“Then what's the harm?”

Quill leans his elbow on the table and snorts. “It ain't a great story to tell.”

“Do I die?”

And Quill winces, but it's not a lie when he says, “No.”

“Just give me somthin'.”

Quill rolls his eyes. “You end up my first mate, alright?”

Kraglin blinks a few times, because that was not what he was expecting. “But what 'bout...” and it hit's him, “ _Cap'n_ dies.”  
Quill nods and Kraglin thinks about asking _how_ and _when_ but there's something in Quill's face asking him not to so instead he drags a smile across his face. “An' you take over his faction.” His smile drops, “What?”

Quill takes a breath before answering, “There was no faction left. Just you and me.” 

And for a minute Kraglin is too stunned to speak. Someone, _something_ took out the entire faction? “What happened?” he can't help but ask. All he can think is Ogard finally decided to wipe them out, but since it's been years since what's commonly referred to as the Ogard incident (safely out of earshot of Cap'n or Quill) and the man hasn't made one move in doing anything more than ignoring them, he can't imagine what would get the man to actually eliminate them.

Quill doesn't refuse to tell him right away, but is looking at him like he's searching for something in Kraglin's face. He must find it because he sighs and nods. “It started with a mutiny.”

And Kraglin feels his heart drop. He listens to Quill speak and he can see it all play out in his mind's eye. The mutiny, the execution of the loyal, and he feels sick, cause there's something Quill's dancing around, something that's digging at him.

“...and you got him outta the brig and Yondu ended up taking out everyone else on the ship and blowing the _Eclector_ up as y'all escaped on the _Third Quadrant_.” 

“Where was I?”

Quill looks away before saying, “What do you mean? I just told ya, ya got the _Third Quadrant_ ready to fly.” 

“ _Where was I?_ When they were throwing my crewmates outta the airlock… Where was I?!”

Quill's jaw works. “This is why I didn't want to tell you.”

Kraglin feels sick. Cause they were throwing the loyal out the airlock, but somehow that didn't mean _him_ and it doesn't make sense at all.

“Krags. Kraglin! Look at me.” Kraglin drags his gaze from where he'd been staring at the table. Quill is staring at him. “You did what you had to do to save your captain, d'ya hear me?”

Kraglin opens his mouth but he only gets as far as, “But...” before Quill cuts him off.

“No. No buts.” Quill sighs and drags a hand over his face. “I shouldn't a told ya that part.”

“No,” Kraglin disagrees, “No, I needed to know.”

XXX

Cap'n is waiting for them when the _Maggie's_ hatch opens and they stumble down the ramp. “Guessin' it didn' go well.”

Quill sticks a hand through the hole in his leathers. “Ya could say that. Don't worry, Kraglin killed 'em all.”

Kraglin blinks at him, “I only killed two, ya killed the other one.”

“Huh, guess I was a little busy with the whole _getting shot_ thing that I didn't notice.” Quill shrugs. “Anyways, we should really discuss all this, over drinks.” He shoots a significant look at Cap'n, who in turn rolls his eyes but leads the way out of the ship bay.

Before Kraglin can slink away, Quill throws an arm around his shoulder, the heavy weight keeping him in place and dragging him along. He accepts the bottle of green liquid Cap'n thrusts in his hands as soon as the door hisses shut in his quarters, but he hugs the wall unlike Quill who flops down on Cap'n's bed and pops the cap off his own bottle.

“The good stuff, we celebratin' something?” Quill muses before adding, almost offhand. “Oh, I told Kraglin.”

Cap'n blinks and Kraglin tries not to shrink under his gaze. “Told Kraglin what?”

“Bout me,” He takes a long drink and when Cap'n still hasn't stopped glaring clarifies with, “The whole being from the future thing. Seriously how many _things_ could I be talking about?”

“An' why the hell you'd go an' do that?” Kraglin tells himself that doesn't sting a bit.

Quill shrugs. “Pete and I have the same scar, and apparently tell the same story when asked about it.” he took another drink before adding, “'Sides, I was going to tell him eventually anyways.”

Cap'n sighs. “I'd say welcome to the club, but bein' a member means havin' to deal with tha'.” He points to Quill on the bed, who in response flips him off.

Kraglin feels his lips twitch a bit, “Ah, he's not tha' bad.”

Cap'n raises an eyebrow at him, “Ya new here or what?”

He can't keep the smile off his face so he lets it settle into a smirk, while Quill grumbles on the bed.

Cap'n shakes his head before continuing, “We've had our own issue aboard. Horuz is dead.”

That gets Quill sitting up and Kraglin feels himself straighten. “What happened?”

“He picked up a bug the las' planet we were on. Didn' go to the Doc when he shoulda, was too late by the time his drug his ass there. He died this mornin'.”

“Well shit.” Quill's words seemed to sum up the situation pretty perfectly. 

“Hm, funeral will be as soon as Doc's sure the body's no' contagious. An' I need a new first mate.”

Quill's eyes light up, “Ah, the reason we got the good booze.”

And Kraglin's happy for him. “Congrats, Quill.”

Quill just blinks at him, smirk curling at his lips. “Don't know why you're congratulatin' me, he ain't making _me_ first mate.”

“But...” And he turns to see Cap'n grinning at him, one hand extended out.

“What'ya say, Obfonteri?”

He ignores the bottle he drops, and Quill cry of dismay as it hits the deck, and grasps the offered hand, “Aye, Cap'n.” 

And this time, there will only be a mutiny over his dead body.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually part 6, but it was behaving better than 4 or 5 so here it is. All the kudos'es and comments on this universe is making me all fuzzy inside! Thanks for reading :)


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